<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>catch a falling star by h4wkguy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948173">catch a falling star</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4wkguy/pseuds/h4wkguy'>h4wkguy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>try the beams [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beleaguered Guardian of Moab Sandoval Crossing, Gen, Minecraft End Poem Lars Taylor, POV Second Person, Vague Crossroads Deals, Warning: JEFF!, this is super short but who knows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:33:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27948173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4wkguy/pseuds/h4wkguy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You feel older than the peaks of mountaintops. You feel as if you were a fledgling bird. You can't make sense of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lars Taylor &amp; Sandoval Crossing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>try the beams [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Stare Into The Sun</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>catch a falling star</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>features lore that we don't have on the wiki yet oops<br/>based on fever dreams and patches of conversation from the solarium</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing at the crossroads is staring at you. Its grin is wide, two palms outstretched and one more beckoning urgently like its ushering you in. </p><p>"Kid," it says, and its jaw doesn't move but you don't know enough yet to think it's odd, "I get you’re new to this, but if you want to make it here you're gonna have to do something about <i>that.</i>"</p><p>You follow the gaze downwards, to the blackened glass and singed edges of desert flora following in your wake. The winding path from the crater looks and reeks of destruction and the spot still beneath your feet is creaking in protest as you watch. You freeze, hands shaking and phasing through existence and spilling light that catches oddly against the scars in the land.</p><p><i>What do I do then</i>, you say, opening your mouth to white noise and the symphony of the stars to match your rising panic. </p><p>The thing stood between roads here and there puts out a final hand (You take it. The grip is like an iron vice.) and speaks in a voice that oozes.</p><p>"You forget."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You wake in the cradle of land that looks like it's been scooped away in one great stroke. The ground beneath you is smooth and dark, wholly unlike the red sand and red rock everywhere else. Something about it says desolation. Something about it makes you feel very guilty.</p><p>Howling rings across the craggy landscape from somewhere distant and getting closer. A curious, detached thing in your mind tells you you ought to be worried about this so you start to move. </p><p>Hand over hand over hand over hand you slip and skid your way to the summit of blackened earth and haul yourself to shaking legs. Someone is here, at the crater’s edge, eyes on the sky and reflecting the stars back at it. You raise a hand to your temple and wave, but they are very quiet for a very long time. </p><p>“Quite a light show.” </p><p>You startle so badly you trip yourself to your knees. They jump a little themself, eyes finally tearing away from the heavens to give you a once-over. Their chin tips up again and scans the surrounding wreckage before it drops back to where you’ve got your tongue stuck out while you try to sort your limbs back into something vertical. The howling is a little bit closer now.</p><p><i>I don't understand</i>, you try, head shaking, a fist at your temple as you raise a finger. Balancing is difficult. You feel older than the peaks of mountaintops. You feel as if you were a fledgling bird. You can't make sense of it.</p><p>They scrub a hand over short-cropped hair and pinch at the bridge of their nose. Something about them settles, and their shoulders square when they close the distance and lean down to brace you and haul you to your feet.</p><p>“Here, let’s get you into town, kid. We'll figure it out there.”</p><p>So you go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the pacing is super awkward but look.<br/>i have covid and i cant smell all my fancy little candles so i will write very short ficlets about my team and nobody can stop me</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>